The 60th Year
by Duckyo
Summary: In District Four live Florence Callahan and Roman Letrude.  Two names.  Two normal people.  Two tributes.    But there can only be one champion.   Rated T strictly for violence.
1. Chapter 1

"Today's the day," a woman with light pink hair and lips and stunning emerald eyes greeted, reaching out to shake the girl's hand. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-five, yet she seemed so grown-up. Two other Capitol residents stood nearby: Krater, a short, freckled girl with lilac hair, and Dominick, a tan man with a bald head and ravishingly green patterns all across his face.

The girl replied with a small smile, trying to hide her mixed feelings of anxiousness, devastation, and nausea as she squirmed around in her white robe. The shock of being selected in the reaping had just begun to wear in. _Why?_ she often thought to herself. _Every year, volunteers nearly trip over each other to be a tribute in the Games, but not this year..._ After she thought these things, however, she usually sighed and decided that no one could actually _desire_ to be a tribute anyway.

"You're a delightful canvas," Olive, the pink-haired lady, began, ignoring how strange her comment must sound to the tribute. She set a polished hand on the girl's chin and closely studied her facial features. "Your eyes are key," she mumbled in thought. "In here," she started, snapping out of her trance and directing Florence into the preparation room. "You two get started; I'll go get the clothes," she told Krater and Dominick.

The two makeup artists set to work, scrubbing down Florence's fingernails and washing off her face.

By the time they had begun to curl her hair, Olive returned with a covered coat hanger. As the other two fiddled with the mess of ebony hair, she grabbed a small powder brush and began to dab at the girl's face. She swiftly brushed the minimum amount of blush and began to dust a powder on Florence's eyelids.

"So what sort of outfit do you have planned for me?" Florence asked shyly.

"Oh, you'll see," Olive answered with a grin.

After a coat of eyeliner, lipstick, and nail polish, the prep team helped Florence up and told her to close her eyes.

With the tiniest of smiles, Florence closed her eyes as she heard Olive shuffle to collect her outfit.

"Raise your foot," she ordered, slipping a silky material onto the tribute. "Okay, you can open them."

Florence immediately did as she was told and peered directly into the full-length mirror in the room. "Oh!" she gasped, taking in her outfit. A light blue silk dress draped down to her feet. It was a trumpet-style gown, therefore thickening into a tri-colored and tri-layered poof, due to a layer of tulle, from her knees to the ground. Long, stately, lace sleeves trickled down her arms and draped to the ground, as if she were emerging from a pool of water. Her black hair dove down her back in long, loose curls. Due to the dress, the light blue eyeshadow, and the glittery silver eyeliner, Florence's eyes absolutely glistened. Her lips glistened a brilliant white, which gave an almost ghostly appearance.

As Krater fastened on a pearl necklace, Dominick slid a simple silver diadem containing a single pearl in the front onto her forehead.

"It's beautiful," Florence explained sincerely.

"I was hoping I could fully capture the watery essence of District Four," Olive explained with a satisfied expression. "One last thing," she mumbled, bending over with a pair of silver heels.

Once the monstrous shoes were fastened on, Florence stood up, feeling a bit shaky.

"Go ahead; walk around a bit!" Dominick blurted out with a dazzling smile.

The ebony-haired girl slowly put one foot in front of the other and began to stroll around the room. After a moment or two, however, she began to topple over but was caught by Krater before it was too late.

"I was afraid that would happen. Just go barefoot," Olive compromised, retrieving the heels and taking another glance at Florence.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Roman was becoming quite flustered. Orie, a member of his prep team with violet hair, was convinced his hair was unnatural. "Honestly, where did you get your dye?"

"It's natural," Roman persisted.

"Mhmm," Orie muttered vaguely, clearly unconvinced. "Well, it's a ravishing color. It'll go beautifully with your outfit," she assured.

"Leave the boy's hair alone for a moment, Orie," Sunny requested. Like her name suggested, her hair shone a radiant yellow-orange color though her eyes were a dark, deep brown.

"Thanks," Roman mumbled, trying to ignore his once-curly red hair as they slipped a set of silver trousers onto him. Of course, his hair was straightened now.

"Lift up your arms," Trace, another member of the prep team ordered, sliding a silky blue shirt over the tribute's head.

A loose, silk hood perched the peak of Roman's head and slithered down into his shirt. A long pair of sleeves dripped from his wrists.

"I believe I like the finished product," Sunny chirped after wrapping a sort of belt of pearls around his hips.

Roman took a long glance at himself, from his radiant red hair down to his bare, pedicured feet.

"I believe you're ready," Sunny finished with a shiny smile.

Roman followed her stylist through a silver door where they met with Florence, her prep team, and Treble Stewart, their mentor. Roman couldn't deny that Florence looked stunning, and he could only hope that he too appeared so composed and dignified.

"We've actually got to find our seats," Olive explained, shepherding her prep team through another door. "Florence, Roman, be careful, walk slowly, and keep your chin up. You enter the stage through there." Roman quickly took note of a third silver door, and with that, the two prep teams exited the room.

"Stay focused and stay friendly. Act like these are your friends," Treble offered as a last bit of advice, referencing to the multitudes of Capitol residents gathered all around. He gave a quick smile then followed after the stylists.

Roman opened the silver door and led Florence outside. All the tributes were in sight.

As their eyes wandered towards a set of aquamarine chariots concealed in white scalloped seashells and pulled by white stallions, Florence gasped, "They're beautiful!" and ran forward as fast as she could.

As Roman's eyes moved from the two tributes of District Twelve, both completely naked and covered in coal dust, to the couple from District Three, dressed in bright, lightning yellow bodysuits that occasionally zapped with surges of electric blue, he murmured, "Yeah, Sunny and Olive did a great-" but he let his voice trail off as Florence was not running towards the carriages, but instead towards the horses.

Tripping over her dress every few steps and absolutely abominating her graceful demeanor, Florence finally gave up on running and continued a steady stroll towards the animals. As she stroked one of the horses' necks, she let out a huge grin.

Roman chuckled quietly, amused by his fellow tribute. He was still undecided on her eligibility as an ally. While he was a Career tribute, he avoided the bestiality that most Careers dove in to. He carefully hopped aboard one of the chariots and gestured for Florence to do the same. She quickly followed, still admiring the horses.

Once the first three districts had traveled down the long aisle to the opening ceremonies, the stallions of District Four were ready to go.

"Here we go," Florence mumbled shyly as the horses started trotting.

"Show time," Roman agreed with a quick wink.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think that went fairly well," Roman said happily.

"Me too," Florence agreed. "Only the District One tributes really got more airtime than us."

The group had just finished watching a recap of the Opening Ceremonies on television.

"You two looked fabulous! Oh, your stylists did marvelously," Mariah, the white-haired events coordinator, cooed.

"I'm very proud, but don't let this get to your head," Treble warned. "And make sure you find allies at group training."

Roman took a moment to study their mentor. He was tall, buff. A true Career, there was no doubt about that. Dark hair, stubble. Despite his build, he looked worn out. Maybe it was from the stress of the Games. Treble couldn't be too old- he had only become a victor eight years ago.

The redhead snapped out of his trance just in time to hear Mariah exclaim, "I, for one, think we should all get to sleep. We've got a big day ahead of us!"

Stifling a yawn, Florence nodded in agreement, arose from the sofa, and sleepily drifted to her room. She was already wearing cozy pajamas, so she simply brushed her teeth and washed her face before lying down on the bed. She was alone now. The room was dark. There were no distractions to keep her mind from thinking about the challenge that would soon arise. Fear filled her mind, though she didn't quite know why. She knew she was going to die in the arena, and there was no reason to fear the imminent. All she could do was hope it wouldn't be painful.

Remembering Reaping Day, she recalled her family, wishing her a last farewell. Her mother was sobbing, so was Leena, her eight-year-old sister. Her father was trying to stay strong, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. She was thankful that they spared her of encouraging speeches and advice; everyone knew she didn't quite have it in her to kill a human being. Hades was the only one who kept it together. The five-year-old sat down beside Florence, looked up at her with his inquisitive blue eyes, and said, "Everything will be okay, Florence."

"It will?" she responded without conviction, not having the heart to explain what was happening.

"Yes," he answered matter-of-factly. "Leena's teacher at school always says everything happens for a reason."

_If only everything were that simple_, Florence thought as she slowly drifted to sleep.

Curiously, the sun was already up when she awoke. At home, she often went several days with only small amounts of sleep- perhaps she was sleeping longer due to the comfort of the cushiony Capitol bedding. Regardless, she slipped out of the extravagant bed and shuffled into the shower, pressing a button that resembled the sun. Warm, soothing water shot out at her. She shivered with delight, wishing she could just go back to District Four and swim. In a lake, a pond, a river- she didn't care. She curiously pressed a few more buttons that washed her hair, shot out bubbles, and released a heavy aroma of lilac. They didn't have anything like this in Four. Sadly, the luxurious shower had to come to an end eventually. Florence reluctantly turned the handle of the shower until she was overcome with the chilly morning air.

After wrapping a towel around herself, she scampered into her bedroom, opening the closet in curiosity. There was a single outfit and pair of shoes laid out. Without question, Florence slipped the clothes on and shuffled to the full-length mirror on the wall. She wore a soft, sky blue v-neck, and a pair of white shorts with suspenders of the same color. She proceeded to walk back to the closet and slip on a flexible pair of navy slippers. Peering back into the bathroom, she discovered the counter that held the sink also provided a home for an array of accessories. There were, of course, brushes, bows, and rubber bands, but there were also flowers metal tools she had never seen before. A whole drawer was even dedicated to cosmetics. Shrugging, Florence used a dainty brush to comb out her thick hair, then manipulated it into two pigtails when a knock came from the bedroom door. "Coming!" she promised, rushing to the door. Behind it, she found herself face-to-face with a freshly-shaved Treble.

"Oh, good, you're up. Breakfast is ready," he explained, herding Florence into the dining room. As she sad down on one of the cushioned dining chairs, Roman shuffled in, dressed in light blue sweatpants, and a white v-neck.

"Morning," Florence greeted politely, grabbing the bowl of colorful, fresh fruits off the table.

Roman nodded in return. "Morning."

"Listen up," Treble intervened, sliding into a chair. "We've got group training today, so I need to know your skills."

Roman thought for a moment, then replied, "I'm fair with spears."

"I'm stealthy," Florence decided slowly.

"And I assume you're both strong swimmers," Treble added. "That might come in handy. While you're at training, look for allies," he advised. "Not too many, though. Three or four should be good."

Florence and Roman nodded, taking mental notes.

"You're meeting Mariah at the elevators at nine. So, eat a good, quick breakfast- not too heavy- and finish up getting ready. Don't give away all your secrets at training- but make sure you keep them afraid. Keep them interested."

"No offense, Florence, but I don't see how you're going to scare someone," Roman started with a small, nearly arrogant laugh.

"Neither do I," the dark-haired girl agreed, not even noticing the potential of his comment as an insult.

As she absentmindedly nibbled on her fruit, Florence began to decide- if she couldn't leave them afraid by herself, she would just have to get Roman to help her.

When they finally decided to head to the elevators, she piped up, "Roman, do you think you could help me?"

"How so?" he mumbled in question.

"Make me your ally," she explained. "Or pretend I'm a worthy opponent or something. Please." She knew she was throwing out any chance she had to intimidate Roman- but she knew she couldn't do that anyways."

Roman gave this a quick thought, then replied, "Fine." Something about Florence intrigued him. She had the "keep them interested" part down. Maybe her innocent, kindly behavior was a tactic for the Games-it wouldn't be the first time.

As Florence grinned in thanks and the elevators loomed into view, Roman simply thought over his newfound ally and sighed.


End file.
